


rode here on the bus, now you're one of us

by frecklier



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Concerts, F/F, F/M, Gay Zuko (Avatar), LMAO, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, The Jasmine Dragon (Avatar), Transit Crushes, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, mailee RIGHTS, zuko is an english major obv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklier/pseuds/frecklier
Summary: The man glances up from his phone and finds Zuko staring. Not staring. Whatever.He’s been caught in the act. He looks away at breakneck speed, feeling his face heat. He knows his cheeks are nearly as red as the outer edge of his scar.After a minute, he allows himself to glance back up. Hot Guy is still looking. Their eyes meet, and Hot Guy gives him a small smile, just a quirk of his lips. Zuko is floored nonetheless.I’m fucked,he thinks.---Zuko gets a commute crush on the cool guy with pierced ears across from him.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 135
Kudos: 1208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from "dreams tonite" by alvvays

Zuko isn’t staring. He’s not. He just likes to observe his surroundings. It’s not his fault that this person is a part of his surroundings.

The sun had just set as Zuko waited at his usual bus stop. At the beginning of the year, it was light at this time. Now the weather’s changing. He was mournful as a chilly breeze blew some of the dried leaves littering the sidewalk around. Zuko had never been one for winter. Just as he had begun to shiver, the bus pulled up.He got on as quickly as he could without losing any of his dignity.

He took his usual seat, glancing at the familiar faces. He had never talked to any of them, no, and Zuko knew he didn’t have to go as far as many of them — his destination was only twenty minutes away. But there was a sort of kinship between him and the other riders, a shared comfort in the monotony of it all.

Then, someone disrupts the monotony. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see new people on the bus, one-offs or unexpected faces that will quickly become mundane parts of the trip. This man, though, this man is something else entirely.

So no, Zuko isn’t staring. He’s just assessing a newcomer. That’s what he tells himself, at least.

The man looks around Zuko’s age, early twenties. He’s probably a student like himself, judging by the beat-up Jansport he has hanging off one shoulder. He’s wearing a dark wash denim jacket, crowded with patches Zuko can’t begin to decipher.

When Zuko reaches the other man’s face, he has to stifle the shuddered breath he takes. It’s a good face. A _really_ good face. He chuckles to himself and shakes his head minutely. _I can’t believe I can’t think of anything better than “really good face,”_ he thinks. _At least it’s accurate._ The man has a defined jawline and tanned skin that contrasts the irritated red of his chapped lips. He has three piercings in one ear, and a stud in his nose. His eyes are a deep blue, matching the dusky sky of the October night outside the plexiglass window. They’re framed by crinkle lines at the corners, evident of a kindness so unfamiliar to Zuko, except through Iroh. He could write sonnets about those eyes.

They meet his. The man glances up from his phone and finds Zuko staring. Not staring. Whatever. He’s been caught in the act. He looks away at breakneck speed, feeling his face heat. He knows his cheeks are nearly as red as the outer edge of his scar. Not for the first time he’s grateful for his shaggy hair, even though Uncle has been begging him to trim it. It lets him cover the physical evidence of his mortification.

After a minute, he allows himself to glance back up. Hot Guy is still looking. Their eyes meet, and Hot Guy gives him a small smile, just a quirk of his lips. Zuko is floored nonetheless. _I’m fucked_ , he thinks. He can’t handle being on the receiving end of a smile from someone that looks like _that_. He looks back down, fumbling with his tangled earbuds. He normally prefers to pass the ride in silence, but today is a special case.

He jams the connector into his phone and turns on the first playlist he finds. It’s some indie pop band Ty Lee recommended. It’s not his favorite kind of music, but it’s good enough for now. Zuko resolutely stares out the window. He tells himself he won’t look back at Hot Guy (no matter how much he may want to).

The music relaxes him, if only slightly. It reminds him of Ty Lee and, by extension, Mai. It’s been too long since he saw them in person. Mai has been touring around small indie venues across the country with her band, Royal Fire. Ty Lee loves traveling with them as her girlfriend’s band manager/loyal groupie. Mai plays bass and Kei Lo drums, while Azula acts as the frontwoman and lead singer. He almost can’t admit it to himself, but Zuko misses his sister too.

Thinking about this friends almost makes Zuko forget that Hot Guy is there. In fact, he nearly misses his stop. He’s only shaken out of his memories when the bus squeals on the brakes and lurches forward. He takes in the scenery from the window until he realizes that they’re at his stop. He scrambles to pick up his bag and he rushes towards the door. Before he makes it off, though, he sees a smirk from Hot Guy, eyebrows raised. Zuko knows it’s directed at him from the way the man’s eyes meet his own. Zuko stumbles off the bus and takes a steadying breath as it pulls away before walking to the apartment above the tea shop his uncle owns.

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he climbs the stairs in the back room. “I made a fool out of myself twice in the span of twenty minutes. Hot Guy probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

Zuko doesn’t know why he’s so upset about it. It more than likely he’ll never see the other man again.

If Iroh picks up on his nephew’s sour mood, he graciously doesn’t mention it.

“Would you like some tea, Zuko?” He offers.

It’s tempting, but Zuko knows he needs to catch up on his psych chapters before the lecture tomorrow. “No thank you. I have some work I need to do.”

“That’s alright. Have a good night.” He starts walking to his room when his uncle speaks again. “Oh, and Zuko — do not work yourself too hard tonight.”

“Yes, Uncle. Good night.” What Iroh doesn’t know won’t kill him, right? Besides, he needs to be prepared for tomorrow.

Later that night, Zuko sighs as he finally closes his textbook. The alarm clock next to him blinks 3:17 AM, mocking his 7 AM wake up time. It’s fine. He’s dealt with less sleep. His eyes are shut as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He dreams of a boy with eyes like delphiniums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i think commute crushes are actually something that can be so personal  
> \- yes zuko is a literature gay, no i'm not projecting  
> \- can u tell i miss college immensely  
> \- mai is in a pop punk/emo band and ty lee is her dreampop / soft indie gf which [heart eyes]  
> \- i wrote this in one shot so apologies for any incoherence 
> 
> i don't really have a plan for this so we'll see what happens!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka's week couldn't have been going worse. At least he can distract himself with the hot, intimidating guy on the bus.

Sokka is having the worst week of his life.

Monday: He spilled his iced coffee that he spent a fortune on all over himself. The small luxury he allowed himself, completely wasted, not to mention that his Docs now had more stains on them than he cared to count.

Tuesday: Both of his lab partners neglected to show up for their engineering lab. The professor didn’t cut him any slack, so he had to perform the lab and write the entire report by himself in one night.

Wednesday: His car broke down. He couldn’t get to the mechanic, so he was relegated to taking the long way back home after having four back-to-back classes.

There was a small bright spot on Wednesday, though. The boy on the bus. He was hot in an intimidating, “looks like he could kill me” kind of way. The man had the kind of face that made Sokka itch for a pencil and a sketchbook. His hands were long and slim — what Aang would have called “piano-player hands.” Sokka noticed him right when he got on the bus, but didn’t think much of him, until he felt eyes on the back of his head. When he glanced up, the man turned beet red. Sokka reveled in the blush. He wouldn’t call himself a flirt, not _really_ , but the man seemed like a good distraction from the shittiest week ever. Sokka spent half the bus ride trying to get the guy to look back at him. He thought his eyes might have been golden of all colors, but he wanted a better look. When it was his turn to get off, the guy nearly tripped over his own feet and finally, _finally_ , looked back at Sokka. Sokka gave one of his most charming smiles, just to see if he would blush again. Mission accomplished.

So yeah, Wednesday could be salvaged.

But the man on the bus doesn’t seem to have broken Sokka’s bad luck streak. He didn’t have class today, so he brought his ’96 Civic into the auto body shop nearest to campus.

“It’s gonna take how long?” Sokka nearly screams.

The mechanic just sighs. “I told you, kid. We don’t have 25-year-old parts lying around the shop. We’re going to have to search for one, which’ll take time.”

“Yeah, alright.” Sokka looks at his old car. He remembers all the tables waited it took to earn this car in his senior year of high school, all the rude old people and shitty tippers. He pats the car on the hood, talking directly to it now. “Marie, you’re lucky I love you.”

He named his car after _The Aristocrats_. Sue him.

He gets a quote from the mechanic, grumbles under his breath about student loans, and heads to the library where he knows his friends will be.

He hadn’t _planned_ on his friend group being his sister, her boyfriend, his ex-girlfriend, and a hotheaded blind girl. But such is life, he assumes. Sokka’s first two years of college were spent hanging around Teo’s group, mainly. Though in reality, they were more just buddies that smoked and played COD together. When Katara and Aang started at Republic University this year, Sokka decided to take them under his wing. Aang had come to movie night one day with Toph alongside him, and the rest is history.

Sokka gets to the library and makes a bee line for his normal table. There, he finds Katara and Suki chatting about various assignments. He plops down in the chair with a sigh. The women don’t so much as glance his way. He sighs louder. Still nothing. At his third, they finally turn.

“What’s wrong, Sokka?” Katara asks, clearly out of annoyance rather than anything else. She knows Sokka well enough to be used to his dramatics.

“Marie broke down,” he pouts. “She’s out of commission for at least a week and a half. Now I have to walk from the lab to work and take the bus back to the apartment.” He and Katara live together off campus in an effort to save money.

His sister’s face softens when she realizes that Sokka’s bad mood is actually justified this time. “I’m sorry, Sokka. Maybe you could take fewer shifts at the diner? Or you could talk to Dr. Piandao and see if you can cut back on your research hours until your car gets fixed.”

Sokka appreciates Katara’s pragmatism. He can always count on her to be the problem solver. But taking time off isn’t an option. He needs the shifts to help pay for the repairs and he doesn’t want to ask his mentor for any favors. Sokka needs Piandao to see he’s responsible. He shakes his head. “No, I can manage. You know me, I’m just complaining.”

Katara’s eyebrows knit in concern. He knows she doesn’t believe him. “Well, okay. I’m going to print something. Who still asks for hard copy anyway?” She gets up and walks a few yards away.

Sokka drops his head onto the glossy, fake wood table. Suki rubs comforting circles onto his back. The pair dated a little last year, but they crashed and burned spectacularly. Both were too stubborn, too rash. Sokka is infinitely grateful for her friendship, though.

“You know,” she murmurs, “I have some extra cash saved up. If you ever need anything-“

He cuts her off with a groan. “I can’t take your money. It’s my problem.”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want it. Just thought I’d offer.”

“Thanks, Suki. Really.” Sokka lifts his head off the table and thinks, just for a second, about what it would be like to have ‘extra cash.’ The idea’s a lot more distressing than he thought it would be.

As Katara sits back down, Sokka continues, “Hey, at least there’s a chance I’ll see the cute guy from the bus again.”

Suki gets a glint in her eye. Sokka can always count on her to encourage his romantic shenanigans. Katara shakes her head but there’s a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

Maybe Friday will be his good luck day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- there was like 0 zuko in this chapter i apologize  
> \- how do u guys feel about the back + forth format of the POVs  
> \- sokka: overwhelmed, overworked, UNDERpaid  
> \- it'll start moving faster soon i promise i just have to do ~exposition~
> 
> as always thank u for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko tries not to fixate on Hot Guy on the bus anymore. It doesn't work out that way.

Zuko sees Hot Guy again.

He wasn’t expecting to — almost everyone on this route is a regular. But there he is, in the flesh, trying to give Zuko heart palpitations at 5pm. It was barely evening, for gods’ sake.Hot Guy walks on the bus and meets Zuko’s eyes once more. His lips quirk up as he sits on one of the seats facing out. Today he’s wearing a jeans and a flannel that looks impossibly soft. Zuko wants to touch it.

This time, he knows he’s staring, but Hot Guy doesn’t seem to notice or care. His hands are fidgeting with something. It’s a little piece of tech, as far as Zuko can tell. He gets distracted fairly quickly by Hot Guy’s hands, though. They’re large, and his fingers are thick, but the way they delicately handle the machinery is something to behold. Rings adorn his fingers, all silver and shiny except for one that’s matte ivory. His nails have chipped blue polish on them. Zuko can’t stop himself from wondering who painted them — was it Hot Guy himself, hunched over and trying not to spill the bottle? Was it a friend or girlfriend ( _or boyfriend_ , his mind supplies) that got to hold his hand gingerly within their own?

_Snap out of it_ , Zuko scolds himself. _You don’t even know him. He wouldn’t like you anyways. The smiles are just him being polite._

He pulls his beat-up, paperback copy of _Mrs. Dalloway_ out of his bag. He’s read the book a thousand times, but he never gets tired of it. In fact, he’s rereading it now for a paper for his class on Women in British Literature. He’s trained his body not to get carsick while reading in vehicles, after years of practice. When he was younger, cars were the only place he could read in peace and quiet without getting reprimanded. He finds himself easily getting lost in the words.

Just as the shoppers on Bond Street try to decipher skywriting, Zuko’s stop arrives. He’s more aware today, so he doesn’t trip (and he thanks whatever deity above for that small mercy). He looks back once as he walks down the aisle, and gets another smile from Hot Guy. This one is dazzling. It’s blinding. It’s heart-stopping. He leaves as quickly as possible.

He works until close at The Jasmine Dragon. The elderly regulars, the ones that are friends with his uncle, are happy to see Zuko smiling more, if just in his eyes. Bumi goes as far as to ask what’s making the student so happy, but Zuko just shakes his head and calls him, not without fondness, a crazy old man.

That night, he stays up far too late reading, but it’s fine. Really, it is. Zuko’s used to a couple hours of sleep a night. He just has a lot to do, and not enough time in the day to do it.

Over the weekend he works long shifts at the tea shop and tries not to think about Hot Guy. He fails, but it’s a valiant effort. He writes papers and studies and doesn’t talk to anyone outside of Uncle, the customers, and a few texts to Mai. Royal Fire is playing in town in two weeks, and Zuko’s secretly counting down the days until they arrive.

Hot Guy is on the bus a few more times that week. Every time Zuko sees him, he gets the same smile. Every time, he turns beet red and looks at the ground. Most days he messes around with some piece of machinery, which gives Zuko more time to watch his hands. He likes seeing the precision and the intricacy of his work, and when he’s really concentrating how his tongue peeks out from his lips. 

Zuko sees him once on campus, in the library. He’s with a girl with short hair and a bald kid. His head is thrown back in laughter, his expression one of unbridled joy. Zuko feels like he’s invading his privacy. He’s not supposed to see him like this — it’s Too Much. He’s just supposed to be the hot, unattainable guy on the bus that smiles at him. Zuko can’t handle this, knowing what he looks like when he laughs, no matter how badly he wants to. He turns on his heel and doesn’t go back to that area of the library for a few days.

The next Monday is the last day he sees Hot Guy. Zuko doesn’t even get to see him for his whole ride. A minute after Hot Guy gets on, his eyes widen with panic. He looks around and Zuko hears him mutter “oh, shit.” He tries to hold back a laugh. It’s kind of humanizing, seeing this guy who’s unfairly perfect forget his backpack. The downside is that Hot Guy gets off at the next stop. From the blurry window, Zuko sees him break into a run down the street, back towards campus.

Looking at the spot the man just vacated, Zuko notices something on the seat. It’s one of the rings he wears — the smooth, white one. Zuko hesitates for a second, then picks it up. He inspects it a little closer. It’s ivory, or bone maybe. A small polar bear face sits atop the circlet. It was hand-carved, if the small divots are anything to go by. It’s still warm from the man’s hand.

Zuko knows that jewelry is important and often personal. Uncle wears a red thread around his wrist in remembrance of his son, Lu Ten. Azula thinks he doesn’t know, but she has a necklace from their mother stored in her room in the apartment where she stays when Royal Fire isn’t touring. 

He makes a decision then and there. Zuko will keep the ring with him, and give it back to Hot Guy tomorrow. If anything, it’ll give him an opening.

———————

Zuko is in a terrible mood. Hot Guy hasn’t been on the bus all week, not since he lost his ring. How is Zuko supposed to return something if he never sees the guy?

To make matters worse, his usual Friday lecture was canceled, so he’s working the cash register at the Jasmine Dragon during the lunch rush. Impatient businessmen and annoying college students are a far cry from the nice old people he normally serves during the later shifts. He’s had someone send their order back because it wasn’t hot enough, someone else send it back because it wasn’t cold enough, and someone get mad because the store didn’t sell the specific type of pastries they wanted (which, what?).

Iroh eventually sends him to the back to help make drinks because he was “scowling too much and scaring away customers.” Zuko thinks that was a little unfair, but whatever. A half hour later though, Iroh calls Zuko back up to the counter.

“Nephew, I think there is something that you need to see here,” Uncle shouts to the back.

“Just bring it over,” Zuko reluctantly responds. He really wasn’t in the mood to remake someone’s drink for the third time.

“It is very important, Zuko. I think you should see for yourself.”

“Fine.” He trudges to the front and his mouth falls open in shock.

“SURPRISE!” Ty Lee squeals. Her face is beaming as she stands next to Mai and Azula. Zuko feels a grin break out onto his face. It’s a rare feeling, but a welcome one nonetheless.

“I - I thought you weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow morning?”

“We were, but there was no traffic driving down,” Mai answers. Even she has a small smile peeking through her stoic demeanor. “Plus, Azula drives like a lunatic.”

His sister shrugs. “I would resent that if it wasn’t true.”

Zuko comes to his senses and moves from behind the counter. He embraces Ty Lee first. There was a time when he was uncomfortable with touch, even from his closest friends. He still is, sometimes. Uncle tells him that it’s okay, that progress isn’t linear. But he’s so overcome with the relief of seeing his surrogate family that he pushes any fears out of his mind. These are his people. He can trust them.

When he hugs Mai, she whispers a quiet, “I missed you.” Zuko squeezes a little tighter.

Him and Azula look at each other for a second. There’s a lot of history between the two of them, much that he wouldn’t care to relive. Suffice to say that their parents fucked both of them up. Their relationship has gotten better, especially since both of them have gotten counseling, but physical affection is still foreign for both of them. He settles on putting his hand on Azula’s shoulder. She tenses first, then relaxes into the touch. He gives her a small smile, and she raises her eyebrow with a smirk. Zuko can feel Iroh’s eyes watching them, the pride basically radiating off him. 

His uncle breaks the tension first. “I am glad you girls are here. Seeing loved ones is like rain after a drought.” Azula rolls her eyes, but Zuko knows her well enough to sense the fondness hidden deep below.

Iroh just continues, “Maybe you can help with Zuko’s moping.” He chuckles and heads into his office. Ty Lee’s face falls at that.

“Why are you moping? Is there something off with your chi? I can try to fix it!” Normally, Zuko appreciates her helpfulness, but he doesn’t want to go into the whole Hot Guy story, at least not now.

“I’m not moping. Uncle is just being dramatic.” Ty Lee doesn’t seem convinced.

“Alright,” she says with a frown, leaning her head on Mai’s shoulder. She’s the only person that’s allowed to do that. “So long as you come to the concert tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he promises, and he means it. Seeing Mai and Azula on stage always makes his heart swell with pride. He can deal with the drunk crowd and the amps that are too loud for the space for one night.

Her eyes glinting with mischief, Ty Lee says, “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there.”

He just nods with a tight smile, and tries not to think of the polar bear ring burning a hole through his backpack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- mrs. dalloway being zuko's favorite book is intentional bc he def relates to the idea of having to fit into expectations that a society forces upon you and being resigned to play The Perfect Part (also it's one of my favorites lmao)  
> \- MAILEE RIGHTS  
> \- i promise the boys will interact in the next chap  
> \- [this](http://www.spiritwrestler.com/catalog/index.php?products_id=11465) is what i picture sokka's ring to look like  
> \- also i Will be cramming as many literary references in this as i possible can bc i am a huge nerd
> 
> as always thank u for reading !!


	4. Chapter 4

“Hold still, dummy,” Suki chastises.

She’s helping Sokka get ready for the concert she’s bringing them all to. Katara, Aang, and Toph are waiting in the living room, no doubt complaining about how long Sokka’s taking.

“I am holding still!” He protests. Suki is leaning over him, eyeliner marker in hand.

Sokka doesn’t wear makeup often, but tonight is one of the few nights he's going out. Suki's friend from high school is in town. She manages an indie punk band or something — Sokka isn't exactly sure.

He's excited to be doing something fun for once. Normally, he's stuck at the lab or the diner. When he does get a night off, he usually just stays home and plays video games.

Suki finishes up the wings and pats him on the cheek.

"How do I look?" He asks teasingly.

"If I didn't know you, I would think you were very hot," she jokes back.

"Hey!"

"Kidding! Come on, we're gonna be late."

They walk the few steps into the living room to meet the rest of their friends. The apartment isn't big, but it was a great deal that didn't force Sokka to live with roommates. After his freshman experience with Jet, he didn't want any chance of a repeat.

Katara and Aang are sitting close together on the couch, holding hands, as Toph tells a story about how "moronic" one of her geology professors was.

"Well, finally," Katara breathes out. "We've been waiting for an hour!"

"Calm down, drama queen. It was twenty minutes," her brother responds.

Aang cuts in, likely sensing a sibling bickering match about to take place. "We don't want to miss the band, so we should probably head out now."

"Great idea," Suki responds.

It takes a while to get to the venue, but at least Sokka has Marie back. He had been so thankful when he picked her up from the mechanic. Sure, it had been kind of a bummer that he wouldn't see Mr. Broody from the bus again, but it saved him valuable time.

At the door, Katara, Aang, and Toph get Xs on their hands. Toph immediately washes hers off and heads to the bar, Suki right behind her. Sokka takes a minute to survey the crowd. He sees some people he knows, but they're mostly random kids he recognizes from this or that class.

He walks over to Toph and Suki at the bar, pleases when he sees Jin behind the counter.

"Hey, Jin," he says. "What's up?"

"Oh, hey Sokka! Want a beer? It's on the house." Sokka starts to protest, but she cuts him off. "No way. You saved my ass last month with that code. It's the least I can do."

He knows Jin was his favorite for a reason. He thanks her and makes eye contact with Suki. Because he's a good friend, he doesn't bring up her flirting with Jin earlier. He does waggle his eyebrows, though. He's only human. She glares back.

He turns to Toph to say something, but there's movement on stage before he can get a word out. The techie finishes setting up the map and the band comes on stage.

A guy with close cropped hair on the sides that's a little longer on top sits behind the red drum set. Next comes the bassist, wearing all black except for red eyeshadow. Finally, the lead comes on. She's wearing fishnets and a red slip dress. Sokka can't put his finger on it, but she has that same kind of intimidating hotness that the guy on the bus has.

The band starts playing. They're a mix of alt rock and punk that Sokka decides he likes. During the set, he looks around the crowd once more. Aang and Katara are standing to the side being oogie. Sokka would never tell them, but it's nice to see how well they get along. It's like they were made for each other.

He keeps looking and he sees him. Mr. Broody. The guy from the bus. He's standing near the front of the stage, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Sokka nearly has an aneurism.

"Toph!" He says, loud enough for her to hear. Some of the other concert goers look at him funny, but he doesn't care.

"What? Can't you see I'm trying to listen?" She scoffs.

"He's here! Mr. Broody from the bus!"

"Mister? What is he, an elementary school teacher?" Toph cackles.

Sokka has to admit that's a little funny, but he came for advice, not bullying. "Shut up! What should I do? Should I go over there?"

"Just talk to him. And don't be weird about it."

He doesn't know why he thought Toph, of all people, would be helpful. She's the kind of friend you go to for venting and Mario Kart, not romantic advice.

The rest of the evening carries on without incident as Sokka works his courage up to talk to the guy. He claps when the band's set is over, and tries to find Mr. Broody with his eyes. He finally spots him on the side of the stage, talking to the band members and a peppy girl in all pink that he hadn't seen before.

Before he can do anything, Suki grabs him by the arm.

"Come meet my friend." Her time of voice leaves no room for argument as she drags him right to where the group he was just watching stands.

As soon as the peppy girl sees Suki, she squeals and runs into her arms.

"It's good to see you too, Ty Lee," Suki laughs.

Sokka can't focus on them, though. He looks right at the guy from the bus to find him staring back. He's wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, with a flannel on top. His shaggy hair falls across his face.

"Who's your friend?" The girl, Ty Lee, asks.

Suki has to shake Sokka out of his reverie before he answers. "Oh! I'm Sokka. I really liked the show, by the way," he finally says, turning on the charm.

"Hi there! This is my girlfriend, Mai," she says pointing at the bassist. "Here's Kei Lo, Azula, and this is Zuko."

_Zuko_. He liked that name a lot better than Mr. Broody. He gives Zuko a smile, reminiscent of their shared commutes. He can't exactly tell in this light, but he sees Zuko's cheeks flush yet again.

_Another success_ , he thinks to himself.

Ty Lee and Suki catch up, roping Kei Lo and Azula into their conversation. Just as Sokka was about to say something to him, Zuko whispers something to the scary bassist, Mai, and walks backstage.

Sokka feels his face fall. He turns to join Suki's conversation and tries not to look too disappointed. He learns a fair bit about the band — that they've known each other for years, that Azula is Zuko's sister (so that's where the resemblance comes from), that they're in town for another week until they have to move on to their next show.

It's interesting and Sokka loves meeting new people, but he can't stop his thoughts from drifting back to Zuko. He must not be as discreet as he hopes, because he catches Mai watching him more than once.

At the end of the night, Sokka is looking for Katara and Aang when he feels a tap on his shoulder. It's Mai. She's even scarier up close.

"Listen," she starts. "I don't do this. Ever. But you should go to the Jasmine Dragon tomorrow. Zuko is working from 9 to 1."

Sokka doesn't know how to respond. He settled on a polite, "Thanks, Mai."

"You're welcome. Just remember that I'm a trained swordfighter," she deadpans. She's gone before Sokka can close his mouth.

As he loads everyone into his car, he feels a little more steady. Having a plan always makes him feel more secure. He's not an engineering major for nothing.

_Jasmine Dragon. 11 am. I can do that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- they finally meet !! but zuko has a Gay Panic (tm)  
> \- i imagine royal fire's music to be kind of like yeah yeah yeahs if that makes sense ?  
> \- next is the boys actually talking i'm excited  
> \- also i just wrote a mailee one-shot if anyone wants to check that out!
> 
> as always thank u for reading !! :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Zuko wakes up at 7am with a pounding headache. His mouth is dry and he's still in his jeans from last night.

He should've known this was going to happen. Every time the girls are in town, they go way too hard on soju and he ends up regretting it the next morning.

It was nice to finally catch up with everyone, though. After the show, they went back to the apartment Mai and Ty Lee stayed in when they weren't touring. Azula convinced them all to get trashed, and Zuko may have gone on about the pretty bus boy for twenty minutes. He couldn't help it, okay? The guy ( _Sokka_ , he kept reminding himself) was wearing eyeliner. Honest-to-god eyeliner. It wasn't Zuko's fault that he couldn’t shut up. He had gone on like that until his sister threatened to turn all of his jeans into jorts. 

Despite her threats, he's glad that Azula's around now. Their father was constantly putting his children against each other. After Zuko left at the end of high school, he wasn't sure he would ever see his sister again -- or ever even want to. She made it clear whose side she was on during _that_ fight. Mai was his saving grace. She moved Zuko into school, contacted Iroh for him, and got him to want to put a life together. At the same time, she and Ty Lee were running interference with Azula, trying to un-brainwash her. Zuko doesn't know how they managed it, but they did.

He just wishes they were always that kind to him. For some godforsaken reason, Zuko agreed to open the Jasmine Dragon today, which means he has an hour to look halfway decent and get the store ready for opening.

He showers as quickly as he can and throws on his old Cure shirt and jeans that are stained from when Azula decided to try out laundry but confused bleach for detergent.

He stumbles down the stairs a half an hour later. His saving grace is that Song closed last night. If it had been Jet, the place would've been a disaster. Song, on the other hand, is actually a good person. She cleaned up so well that the only thing Zuko needs to do is overturn the chairs and wipe down the tables.

The morning goes smoothly enough. Aside from some of the regulars, the store is pretty quiet. It’s far for most students, a fifteen minute drive not worth the effort on a Saturday morning.

He's wiping down the espresso machine when he hears the bell above the door jingle.

"I'll be right with you," he mutters. He hopes it's just someone who'll order like a normal person. He doesn't have the strength to deal with anyone else right now.

He turns and, oh, this is so much worse. It's Sokka. His eyes are a little bloodshot. The sides of his face have smudges around them, like he couldn't get all the eyeliner off. He looks incredible.

"Of all the tea shops in all the world," Sokka says, a smile brightening his face.

_This is how I die_ , Zuko thinks. He’s acutely aware of his entire body. Subconsciously, he moves his bangs to cover the left half of his face.

The other man's smile wavers at Zuko's silence. "Uh, I don't know if you remember me, but we met at the show last night. My friend Suki knows Ty Lee? I met you for a second and then you, uh, left. I didn't really get a chance to talk to you though and - "

"I remember,” Zuko says. He immediately feels guilty about walking away from the group last night to hide backstage, but he wasn’t ready to face Sokka’s inevitable dislike of him. At least then he could live in Zuko’s mind as Hot Guy. It seems like Sokka had other plans.

“Oh,” Sokka says, pleasantly surprised.

They look at each other for a moment. Zuko feels his cheeks flushing and hopes it’s not too noticeable. Finally, he asks, “So, are you going to order anything?”

Recognition widens the other man’s eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have, uh…” His eyes frantically scan the menu. Zuko has worked in food service long enough to tell when a customer is panicking.

“I normally get the jasmine iced tea,” he offers. Sokka’s entire body relaxes.

“That sounds great. Thanks, Zuko,” Sokka responds. He handles the name with care — a soft, deliberate enunciation. Zuko decides that he never wants to stop hearing it.

Zuko tells him the total, and Sokka reaches into his wallet. Zuko is mesmerized by his hands yet again when he remembers something.

“I have your ring,” Zuko blurts out. Sokka’s brow furrows and Zuko tries to dig himself out of this hole. “We took the same bus route for a few days. The last day you were there, you dropped a ring. I picked it up to bring to a lost-and-found or something, but it must have slipped my mind.”

Emotions travel past Sokka’s face in waves. His initial confusion shifts to panic as he looks down at his own hands. Relief comes next, then something indecipherable. “Is it a polar bear?” He finally asks.

“Yeah, it is. It’s upstairs in my room right now. I can bring it to you when I get a break, if that works for you?”

“That works. Should I just wait here?”

Zuko nods. “My coworker should be coming in soon.” He doesn’t mention that Jet is notoriously late. It would just stress Sokka out more. “I’ll bring you your tea when it’s ready.”

Sokka seems to have forgotten about his drink. “Oh, right. I’ll just… sit.”

He wanders to a back corner of the store and sits in one of the big armchairs. Uncle had dragged Zuko to all the antique stores in the city to find it. A notebook appears out of thin air and Sokka begins to write. His tongue peeks out in concentration. Zuko tries not to look too hard.

Instead, he busies himself making the tea. He doesn’t know how Sokka takes it, but his instincts tell him to add sweetener. He brings it over to the other man, who's chewing on the end of a pen in a way that should be illegal in a public space.

Zuko sets the tea down and Sokka looks up at him through impossibly long lashes. He thinks he's going to combust on the spot.

Sokka starts to say something, but Jet comes in just as his mouth opens, talking on his phone obnoxiously about something or other. 

Zuko suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. "That's my coworker. I'll go get you your ring." He turns and walks through the back of the store, quick enough that he misses Sokka's pout.

"You can do this, Zuko," he mutters to himself as he walks through the apartment door. "Just give him the ring back, and you'll never see him again."

_Except every time you close your eyes_ , his mind supplies.

"Shut up."

"Zuko, who are you talking to?" Uncle calls out from the kitchen.

"No one!" He really needs to stop talking to himself.

He grabs the ring from his bedside table and rushes back down the stairs to Sokka's table. Zuko wordlessly holds out his hand, the small piece of jewelry resting in his palm. Sokka's face lights up.

"Seriously, man, thank you so much," he rushes out. "I don't know what I would do without this."

The spark Zuko feels when Sokka's hand brushes his was probably just imaginary.

"It was no trouble."

"I mean it," Sokka says, not leaving any room for debate. His expression wavers for a second, but it comes back in full force as he stands. "Listen, I need to run, but you have to let me thank you properly for this. Can I buy you a coffee or something on campus?"

For a beat, Zuko is too stunned to say anything. His brain short-circuits. He stammers out, "I- yes. That would be fine."

Sokka's thousand-kilowatt smile gets even brighter. "Great! Can I have your number? For practical reasons, of course." Zuko just nods. “Alright, cool. I’ll just write down my number and you can text me whenever.” He pulls out a piece of paper and scribbles his number down.

“Bye, Zuko! See you soon!” Sokka calls as he runs out of the shop.

Zuko is left staring in his wake. He grasps the paper with Sokka’s number gingerly, like it might break. He can’t stop staring as he takes his place behind the register.

“Who’s your new boytoy?” Jet quips.

Zuko rolls his eyes again, but the smile on his face doesn’t fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- is it clear i can't write dialogue for shit lmao  
> \- sokka quoting casablanca make zuko heart go WOOO  
> \- yes i did listen to folklore while writing this chapter  
> \- zuko def can't hold his liquor that boy is like 100lbs soaking wet  
> \- song is the girl that helps zuko and iroh when iroh drinks the poisonous tea in the show if u don't remmeber !
> 
> as always thank u for reading !!! <3 <3 <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief d*ath mention

Sokka stares at the new message notification on his cracked lock screen.

_Unknown Number:_

_Hello, Zuko here._

He stomps over to Katara from behind the counter at the diner. She’s sitting with a textbook open, munching on the free fries Sokka slipped her when the old guy that runs the place wasn’t looking. The diner is mercifully empty, so he can panic in peace. He drops his head onto the perpetually sticky linoleum with a _thunk_.

Katara barely flinches. “Sokka, that’s gross. My food is right here.”

His eyes tilt up enough so he can look his sister in the face, saying “First of all, I gave you those fries, so it’s really my food.”

“That’s not how it works.” She sighs. “What’s wrong?” Sokka wordlessly slides his phone across the countertop. When Katara reads the message, her eyes roll so far back that Sokka thinks they’ll get stuck. “I really don’t see how this is a problem. Like, at all,” she deadpans. “The boy you like texted you.”

“I- Bu- He’s not the boy I like! Shut up!” Sokka sputters out.

To be honest, though, he’s not exactly sure what the problem is, either. Flirting had always come easy to him (if you don’t count when he was fourteen and asked the girl in front of him in English class if they wanted to “do an activity together,” which he doesn’t). He prides himself on being lovably charming. This guy shouldn’t be any different.

_Then why are you so nervous?_ his traitorous brain supplies.

He rationalizes his thoughts to Katara. “It’s just that he did this really nice thing for me, and I want to pay him back.” He leaves out the part about him misplacing the ring — he feels guilty enough already without his sister’s warranted scolding. “If I come on too strong, or if he thinks I’m just doing this to get in his pants or something-“ Katara sticks her tongue out at that. “then I won’t be able to thank him properly.”

A beat of silence passes. Sokka’s fiddling with his ring, twirling it around his finger with his thumb. “Plus,” he adds, quieter than before, “I want to get to know him.”

Katara’s face softens. A look of sympathy passes through her eyes. “I get it,” she says. “Remember how much of a mess I was before my first date with Aang? I tore through my whole closet.”

“This isn’t even a date!” Sokka suppresses the fluttering in his stomach. “It’s just a text! And anyway, I don’t think he’d be interested.”

Yet again, he’s met with the sight of his sister rolling her eyes. “Sure, doofus. Now give me your phone. We’re going to craft the perfect text.”

They spend the next ten minutes of Sokka’s break bickering, their heads bent over the small phone, writing and rewriting. After a particularly spirited tangent on the implication of smiley faces, Sokka hits send on two texts, in quick succession.

_hi! its sokka :)_

_r u free for a thank u coffee anytime soon?_

“And now, we wait,” he says to Katara as he goes to take the order of the table that just came in.

———

As it turns out, Sokka didn’t have to wait that long. When he got off shift, he opened his phone to find a response from the other man waiting for him.

Now, he and Zuko have been texting on-and-off for a few days. Every time his phone buzzes, Sokka fights the rising heat in his cheeks. He doesn’t want to have to think about the connotations of it.

In the meantime, he’s enjoying piecing together new information about his new friend, if he can call Zuko that yet. He learns that Zuko’s an English major, that his Uncle owns the Jasmine Dragon, and that he has very strong opinions on different schools of poetry. He also knows that Zuko loves his best friend Mai, the scary girl from the concert, and her girlfriend Ty Lee. The texts stop coming for a few hours after Sokka mentions the singer from the band, Azula. Sokka makes a mental note to not bring her up.

The men have been waiting for a day when their schedules line up for them to finally get coffee. Really, Sokka should be buying Zuko more than coffee to thank him. If he had lost this ring for good... he doesn’t even want to entertain the thought.

Today, though, he gets to see Zuko in person, to actually talk to him. After his research session ends, he’s going straight to the on-campus Starbucks. Sokka would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. There’s a chance that the easy rapport they’ve cultivate on screen won’t translate to real life. He finds himself getting lost in his worries when he should be taking down notes.

“Sokka,” Professor Piandao chastises, “pay attention. Where is your head today?”

Sokka’s jolted out of his thoughts, flushing. “Sorry, Professor. It won’t happen again.” Piandao’s eyebrows furrow, but he goes back to testing out the machine they’ve been working on. He doesn’t want his mentor to think him at all ungrateful. Most research positions, especially those with such a highly regarded engineer, are given to grad students. It was a miracle that Piandao took Sokka on as a junior. And he loves the work, he really does. He just can’t help it if his mind drifts to shaggy hair and a raspy voice.

Once the work finishes up for the day, Sokka practically sprints out of the building. As he gets to the student center, he checks his reflection in the tinted windows. Suki had assured him over Facetime that his outfit was perfect. It’s warm for mid-October ( _fuck climate change_ , he thinks), so he’s wearing a blue NASA ringer tee tucked into his jeans with his trusty denim jacket. His cartilage piercing has one of those chain earrings in it that he’s confident makes him look cool, no matter what Katara says.

“You got this,” he mutters to himself. The student walking in gives him a weird look, but his pep talk is undeterred. “He’s just a guy. This is just a thank you. You’re fine. Just be normal.”

He walks in, and his plan flies out the window.

Sokka had convinced himself that the image he had of Zuko in his head was a fantasy, that he had romanticized the other man after a week away. After all, he had only seen him on the bus a few times, in a dark venue, and way too early in the morning. He was wrong. Looking at Zuko now, he was everything Sokka had remembered and more.

The other man was looking down at his phone, mouth pinched in concentration. His black hair, stark against his pale skin, was falling into his eyes. Sokka wanted to push it back for him. He looks up as Sokka gets closer to the table. The blue-eyed man nearly trips on his own shoes.

_Tui and La, he’s pretty_ , is the only thing running through Sokka’s head as he sits in the chair across from Zuko.

“Hey there, pal!” He says, and immediately regrets. Zuko doesn’t seem to notice the awkward greeting. He mumbles out a ‘hello’ with a small smile. Sokka slips off his coat — if he sees golden eyes trailing his arms, he pretends not to notice.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Zuko starts. “I mean -“

“Nonsense.” Sokka shuts down any further protests. “Now, what’s your coffee order?”

Zuko ends up getting a small black coffee, a contrast to Sokka’s own iced sugary monstrosity. As Sokka waits on line, he repeats his earlier mantras in his head. _Just be normal. Just be normal._

When Sokka gets back to the table, he sets Zuko’s coffee in front of him.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the shorter man speaks. “I’m glad you were able to get your ring back,” he says.

Sokka smiles at that. “It was all thanks to you. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without it.” That should’ve been the end of it, but Zuko is looking at him with big, honey-colored eyes that bore into his soul. He’s compelled, in that moment, to keep going. He twirls the little polar bear encircling his fingers, a touchstone grounding him to reality. The dull ache in his heart he’s felt for fifteen years pangs again.

“It was my mom’s. She - she passed away when I was little. This is sort of my tribute to her, and to my culture. It was made by people in her tribe.”

He’s expecting one fo the typical responses to people finding out that his mom has died. An “oh,” an “I’m sorry,” a “that must’ve been hard.” They’re fine, if not a little patronizing. Sokka doesn’t need platitudes from people that can’t understand. Zuko does something different.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me.” Sokka meets his eyes and finds nothing but sympathy. No, not sympathy, _empathy_. He feels a sudden urge to reach out and grasp Zuko’s hand, but stops himself. He gives a small smile instead, grinning wider when it’s returned.

“We can unlock traumatic backstories another time,” he jokes, breaking the moment. “Tell me more about the Misty poets.”

Zuko seems a little dazed, but when Sokka mentions their earlier text conversation he comes back to reality.

“Well,” he begins, “it started in China in the mid-70s.”

They talk about every subject under the sun for the next hour, until Zuko has to go to the Jasmine Dragon.

Sokka thinks he could speak to Zuko for years, decades, millenniums without stopping.

He might want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- siblings that strategize about boys together >>>  
> \- tragic backstory: unlocked  
> \- the misty poetry movement was actually a super cool anti-authoritarian movement in china from the mid-70s to the early 80s  
> \- unrelated but wld anyone be interested in me writing more mailee stuff ? i love them sm
> 
> as always i appreciate all the comments and kudos !! i love u all !! <3 <3 <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this took so long aah !!! have 2.6k words as a consolation prize

Zuko, for the first time in a long time, is happy.

It’s not that Zuko was _unhappy_ before, not really. He liked living with Uncle, and he liked his classes, and he liked working at the Jasmine Dragon (for the most part). Mai and Ty Lee were always touring, but he had been content. Happiness was unrealistic, anyways.

But he can’t deny the warmth that bubbles in his chest and rises to his cheeks when he sees Sokka. It’s a sensation he almost doesn’t recognize. At first, he thought it was the flu. He went as far as to tell Uncle Iroh his ‘symptoms,’ but the old man just chuckled. Zuko hadn’t missed the way his uncle’s eyes, filled to the brim with affection, lingered on him, though.

He ponders his newfound state as he sits in a booth at the diner. He feels out of place here. The torn vinyl booth, the laminate tables, the chrome plated walls with TV screens playing every bad late afternoon talk show — it was all so different from the tea shop that he knew and loved. Sokka had asked him to come, though, so there he sat.

This is new for Zuko, too. The whole ‘friend’ thing.

Sure, he had Mai and Ty Lee, but they were always Azula’s friends first. He couldn’t call his 75-year-old uncle a friend and still maintain his dignity. There were some of the other English majors he knew, but they felt more like coworkers than friends. 

This thing with Sokka was different. Sokka comes into the Jasmine Dragon when Zuko was working. Zuko listens to Sokka’s rants about his labs, and Sokka listens to Zuko ramble on about the symbolism in _100 Years of Solitude._ They text regularly, ever since he gave back Sokka’s ring two weeks ago.

Zuko realizes with a start that this is his first friend that he made on his own.

Before the existential crisis can start, Sokka slides into the bench across from Zuko. He’s wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. Zuko never thought he would be into _forearms_ , of all things, but his brain still shorts out when he catches a glimpse of Sokka’s.

“Hey, Mr. Broody,” the blue-eyed man says.

“I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah, but you look so cute when you’re annoyed at me.”

Zuko looks down to hide the rising blush in his cheeks. _It’s just teasing_ , he reminds himself. Sokka doesn’t seem to notice his minor conniption, instead barreling on. He grabs the book that Zuko had open next to his coffee cup.

“ _Love Amongst the Dragons_ ,” he reads. “Sounds boring.”

“It’s not boring!” Zuko protests. He doesn’t get to finish his defense of the play, though, because the bell above the door jingles.

“Duty calls,” Sokka shakes his head mournfully. He actually looks sad to leave. It’s probably just that he doesn’t want to work, right?

Zuko looks over to the door at the new customers. He’s surprised to see he recognizes one of them — Suki. If he didn’t remember her from the concert, he would’ve recognized her from Ty Lee’s Instagram. They were on some intramural soccer team together in high school. Seeing her reminds him of sleepless teenage nights before Mai and Ty Lee got together, listening to Ty Lee talk about her gorgeous team captain and watching Mai try to hide her disappointment. 

Zuko doesn't know who the other girl is. She's short, with hair sticking up every which way. Sokka clearly knows her, thought, because she punches him on the arm when he gets close. Judging by the smacking sound that Zuko hears from thirty feet away, it hurts.

He watches for a second, examining the casual way Sokka talks to them. Something skin to envy pools in Zuko's gut. It's so easy for Sokka.

His pity party is cut short when the pair of girls start walking over. Towards _him._ He’s so stunned that he can’t say anything when they both plop down across from him.

“Hi Zuko!” Suki says brightly. “I’m Suki, Ty Lee’s friend. This is Toph.” she gestures at the younger girl. “And this is Badgermole.”

Zuko was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the German Shepherd right next to him. It’s wearing a vest that reads ‘SERVICE ANIMAL. DO NOT PET.’ He notices that Toph’s eyes are a little glassy and don’t focus on anything. He thinks of his own left side, how he would count his steps when he first lost vision, to understand how far apart things were. His fingers automatically find his shaggy hair and push it over the scar.

“Um, hi,” he finally ekes out.

“So you’re who’s been taking all of Snoozles’ free time,” Toph says.

“Snoozles?” is the only thing he can managed to ask.

Sokka shows up with a plate of fries in time to hear Zuko’s question. “She means me. I fall asleep in a bathtub _one_ time and I get the world’s most embarrassing nickname. Thanks a lot, Toph.”

Suki chimes in, laughing when she says, “To be fair, most people fall asleep in bathtubs zero times.”

The conversation is clearly a well-rehearsed one. Joking barbs and teasing flies across the table at breakneck speed. Zuko can barely keep up. He settles for staying quiet and picking at the fraying edges of his sweatshirt.

After a few minutes, Sokka walks away to seat more customers. Suki and Toph are chatting about some event they’re both going to on Saturday, but what exactly Zuko isn’t sure. That is, until:

“You’re coming, right?”

Suki looks at him with this expectant smile that he almost regrets asking, “To what?”

“Movie night,” she answers, perfectly manicured eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

“I can’t believe Snoozles didn’t invite you yet,” Toph snorts. “He’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Zuko distantly hears a kick hitting Toph’s shin, but it doesn’t matter. _Sokka was talking about me_ , is the only thing in his head. Granted, it was probably just about how Zuko returned his ring — he’s not delusional. But the thought still sends his stomach into a gymnastics routine. It propels his mouth forward before his brain can catch up.

“I’ll be there. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Dude, we literally just invited you.”

Suki calls out across the diner. “Sokka! Zuko is coming to movie night!”

A stack of ceramic dishes clatter to the ground.

-

Zuko checks his phone for the tenth time. The apartment number he’s standing in front of hasn’t changed. Neither has the text with the same number in it. He just likes to be careful, okay?

He takes a steadying breath, and knocks on the peeling paint of the door. 

Sokka’s smiling face meets his half a second later.

“Zuko!” Sokka’s arms are outstretched, but Zuko doesn’t exactly know how to respond. A handshake feels too formal. A pat on the back? A hug? Zuko doesn’t think he could handle that much contact. Thankfully, Sokka seems to sense his hesitation and steps to the side, an invitation to come in.

The apartment is… nice. It’s lived in, homey. Posters for different bands and movies are taped up haphazardly. A stack of textbooks and the circuit board that Sokka was playing with all those weeks ago on the bus lay on the coffee table. It reminds Zuko of Uncle’s room, he realizes with a pang in his chest.

A bald kid and a girl that looks startlingly like Sokka sit together on cushions on the floor. He puts together that the girl is Katara, and the boy is Aang. It’s good to finally put faces to the names Sokka loves sharing stories about. Suki’s on the plush brown couch and Toph is sitting in what looks like a dining room table, Badgermole resting next to her.

“This is it!” Sokka announces, pride swelling in his voice. “It’s kind of dinky but…”

“I really like it,” Zuko says softly. The blinding grin he gets from Sokka could power a thousand generators.

Katara clears her throat loudly.

“Right! Zuko, this is Aang and my sister Katara. They’re both freshmen, but they’re cool. You know Toph and Suki already.”

Aang smiles politely and waves. Katara just narrows her eyes. Out of the corner of his good eye, Zuko sees Sokka make some kind of gesture at his sister. Her face scrunches. Zuko supposes it’s some unspoken sibling communication thing — not that he would know.

“Okay,” Suki breaks the silence, “now that everyone is here, we can start the movie! For some reason, we’re watching _Ratatouille_.”

“It’s a masterpiece!” Aang squeaks out.

There’s some light bickering between the friends, something Zuko has quickly understood is common in this group. Suki argues the merits of _The Incredible_ , while Toph is shouting about _Cars 3_ and cackling. Katara says something about _Coco_. Aang’s favorite is _Inside Out_ , though _Ratatouille_ is a close second. Sokka’s eyes light up and he dives into the debate, chiming in with the pros and cons of _Up._

Zuko thought Sokka by himself was a force to be reckoned with. Sokka with his friends, in his element? It’s a whole other ballgame, and Zuko doesn’t even know the rules.

Half an hour into the dispute, Aang calls for peace. The group finally settles down.

As Sokka cues up the movie, Toph speaks forcefully. “Audio descriptions are on. Is that gonna be a problem?”

It takes Zuko a second to realizes she’s addressing him. The whole room tenses up for half a second. Zuko doesn’t know any of these people all that well, but he can tell his answer is important. “Of course not.” A collective sigh is let out, from everyone but Katara.

“Good. Now sit down so we can start,” the short girl commands.

Sokka follows directions before Zuko does. Zuko watches as he sits on the couch, right next to Suki.

He can see why Mai was jealous all those years ago. Suki is gorgeous, in that effortless sort of way people would kill for. It’s something in the way she holds herself, too, like she knows her worth. The casual placement of her hand onto Sokka’s shoulder sends a wave of nausea through Zuko. He doesn’t want to examine why.

“I’m just, um, going to get some water,” he stammers out. Sokka frowns a little, but just tells Zuko where the glasses are.

Over the sound of the running water, Zuko’s internal monologue is screaming. Screaming that he’s getting attached too quickly, screaming that he shouldn’t let himself feel welcome here, that they just invited him out of social obligation. It screams thatIt’s screaming so loud that he doesn’t hear Katara walk up behind him.

“Zuko,” she states. He jumps about three feet in the air.

“Katara,” he replies, sounding more steady than his wild heartbeat would suggest.

“I just wanted to say that I know Sokka seems like he’s just goofy and fun. But he’s more than that.”

Is that what other people think of Sokka? Zuko frowns. “I know that.”

Katara takes half a step closer. “What I’m saying is that he cares. A lot. About everything. Be careful with him.”

“I - there’s no - I’m not ‘with him.’” He stammers out. Katara purses her lips.

“Keep it in mind,” she finally says, and turns on her heels and leaves.

When Zuko goes back into the living room, Katara is back in her spot like nothing happened. It’s a little jarring, how good she is at intimidation.

Sokka pats the spot next to him, though, and really, would Zuko ever say no? Not when Sokka’s in sweats and a t-shirt from freshman orientation that’s worn so thin it’s practically see through. Not when Zuko can see the dark lines of his tattoos circling his muscles. His legs carry him over before he can even process the question.

The movie is great. At least, Zuko thinks it is. He only ends up catching about half of it. Sometime during Linguine’s climb to the top, Sokka brushes his knee against Zuko’s and leaves it there. Any hope of Zuko following the rest of the plot goes out the window.

When the screen fades to black, the sun has long since set. Everyone is in that sort of post-movie haze of sleepiness and processing. Zuko feels his own eyes drooping closed. He looks at the time on his phone, the bright screen causing him to wince. It’s not that late, but he had promised Uncle he would be back earlier.

“I should get going,” he whispers to Sokka, unwilling to interrupt Suki and Aang’s post-movie discussion about whether or not they would eat at La Ratatouille.

“How are you getting home?” Sokka asks. It’s surprising. Zuko isn’t used to anyone but Uncle being considerate.

“I’m just taking the bus. The Jasmine Dragon isn’t that far a ride.”

Sokka’s mouth quirks down. Zuko reminds himself not to stare. “Let me drive you home,” he offers.

“It’s fine, Sokka. I always take the bus. Remember?” Zuko chuckles a little at the memory. The bus is what led him to Sokka, now it’s taking him away.

“Nope!” Sokka announces, getting up. When he stands, a sliver of stomach peeks through his shirt. “I’m taking you. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t have time to give an answer. Sokka wraps his ring-adorned fingers around Zuko’s wrist and starts pulling him toward the door.

“I’m bringing Zuko home! Be back soon!” He calls out to the room.

Zuko pretends he doesn’t hear when Toph calls out, “use protection!”

-

The ride to the Jasmine Dragon is relatively quiet. It’s a comfortable silence, neither man feeling the need to talk. Zuko’s curiosity gets the best of him, though.

“If you have a car, why were you taking the bus a few weeks ago?” He asks.

Sokka sighs and taps one hand on the dashboard. “Old Marie here doesn’t run so well anymore. She was at the shop then.”

A small smile finds its way onto Zuko’s face. “Marie?”

“Hey! Marie is a very respectable name, and I happen to love _The Aristocats_. I mean, aside from the racism.” Sokka glances over for a second, and Zuko sees the mirth playing in his blue eyes.

“Of course, aside from the racism.”

Sokka pulls up outside the tea shop and puts the car into park.

He looks uncharacteristically nervous. Zuko can’t move his eyes from where they’ve zeroed in on Sokka’s fingers twisting his white ring, the ring Zuko returned to him, in circles.

“Zuko,” he starts. _This is it,_ Zuko thinks. _He’s going to tell me ‘thanks, but no thanks’ on the friendship. I can’t exactly blame him_. “Stop thinking so hard,” he chastises instead. “I can hear the gears turning from here.”

“Um,” Zuko replies eloquently.

“No, that’s not what I wanted to say,” Sokka says, shaking his head. “I wanted to say that I’m glad we’re friends. Tonight was really fun.” He turns and looks directly at Zuko. “Right?”

Zuko just nods. “It was really fun. I’m glad you’re my friend, too.”

The smile that shines on Sokka’s face is a new one. It’s small, and a little shy. It almost stops Zuko’s breathing.

Zuko registers how far over the middle console he’s leaning. It could be a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees Sokka’s eyes flick down to his mouth.

All at once, his internal monologue is back, blaring louder than it had in Sokka’s kitchen. It’s what Zuko needs to shake him out of this stupor, to remind him that all of this is just temporary.

“Thank you for driving me home, Sokka,” he murmurs, lips barely parting. He opens the car door and practically jumps out, leaving Sokka staring dumbfounded in his wake.

Back in the apartment, he hopes he doesn’t wake Uncle when he slams his head against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- zuko can't rlly see his own worth it makes me :-((((  
> \- this is in fact a ratatouille stan account  
> \- i love katara <3 <3 <3  
> \- oh ALSO i wrote a mailee thing !! it's on my acct  
> \- i will probably write more mailee soon bc i love them sm
> 
> as always thank u sm for reading!!!!!!!! if i don't reply to ur comment it's bc i'm forgetful as fuck but i have read it and i appreciate so so so so much!!


	8. Chapter 8

Sokka stares at the newly empty passengers seat, mouth hanging open. Zuko ran out so fast he didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Sokka knows that it’s his fault. He was the one who leaned in first. He was the one who looked at the guy’s _lips_ , for spirit’s sake.. Hell, he doesn’t know if Zuko even likes men. Zuko was probably uncomfortable.

His head falls to the steering wheel with a _thunk_.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he whines out loud, drawing out the last word. “Now he’ll never talk to me again! Why did I have to make it weird?”

After a steadying breath, Sokka drives back to the apartment. He talks to himself throughout the ride, bemoaning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He doesn’t know what came over him before.

Well, that’s not exactly true.

The yellow streetlight had been shining through the window, and anyone else would’ve looked jaundiced and sick. Zuko, because he’s an angel who chose to grace Earth, looked incredible. He was so close that Sokka could smell his conditioner. A pink flush had settled on his cheeks — Sokka’s learned in a few short weeks of friendship that it’s infinitely easy to coax out. It was clear that Zuko had been overthinking because his mouth was downturned and he had been worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, making it pink and swollen. Then, Sokka had to go and ruin it.

Sokka’s so busy thinking about Zuko’s dumb mouth he nearly passes his apartment building.

Upstairs, he commiserates his impulsivity with his friends. Katara and Aang are supportive, giving encouraging words and assuring he didn’t just mess up a new friendship. Suki and Toph make fun of him for being overdramatic. (They’re not wrong, even though Sokka squawks in protest.) At the very least, his friends like Zuko. Sokka knew they would, but it’s still a relief to hear them talk about the next time he comes over. Sokka hopes there will be a next time. He doubts it. His forwardness probably scared Zuko off forever.

A buzz comes from Sokka’s phone just as he’s falling asleep.

_From: Zuko_

_Hope you got home safe._

Huh. Maybe he didn’t fuck up his entire life.

He sends back a quick “ _yup! goodnight :))_ ” before closing his eyes for the night. If he dreams of a pink flush on scarred cheeks and pink lips, he doesn’t tell anyone.

-

An alarm blares at 8 AM and Sokka jolts awake. Groaning, he reaches over to shut off the offending noise. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and tries to remember why he thought it would be a good idea to wake up early on a Saturday. He knows he has to get started on his final projects, but he internally curses past-Sokka for thinking he’d be anything but useless before 11 AM.

Still, he sits up. His mind has been buzzing with an idea for his final project in his engineering class since the topic was announced. Half-formed sketches in his notebook at the diner won’t compare to actually working in the lab. He throws on the first clean shirt he sees — it reads “Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me”— and heads into the kitchen to make coffee.

After pouring the grounds into his old Mr. Coffee, Sokka grabs the first reusable cup he sees. It takes him a second to realize it’s the one from the Jasmine Dragon, a red serpent trailing around the outside of the cup. He remembers the day he bought it. He had come into the shop under the guise of doing schoolwork, but he mostly snuck glances at Zuko as the boy worked from behind the counter. Sokka had been there for so long that he whined to Zuko about how cold his tea got, giving him puppy eyes and pouting. Zuko practically shoved the thermos in the other boy’s hand with a gruff “take this.” Sokka had declared him to be the best, meanest barista in all of Ba Sing Se.

The memory makes Sokka’s stomach turn. Even though Zuko had messaged him last night, he can’t shake the feeling of guilt over their not-kiss. Because in the harsh light of day, Sokka can’t convince himself he was doing anything else. But then he thinks of how Zuko acts around him, all the signs Sokka thought he was getting, and his guilt gives way to confusion. He resolves to put the thoughts out of his mind. He needs to focus on his project anyways.

Sokka pulls into a reserved parking space on campus. He can’t be bothered to park further; besides, it’s a weekend and the engineering building is almost always deserted. He swipes in at the front and settles into a mostly-empty lab room. He pulls out the notebook he got at freshman orientation. It used to be filledto the brim with special engineer’s graph paper, but after two years and countless manic brainstorm sessions, it’s down to its last legs.

In the end, Sokka’s dilemma turns into a sort of makeshift Pomodoro method. Work on the project for fifteen minutes, think about Zuko for five, work on the project, think about Zuko. Sokka thinks he’s caught in an endless loop of work and Zuko when someone walks into the lab.

“Sokka!” He hears Professor Piandao’s warm voice call out. “What brings you in on a Saturday?”

“Hi, Professor,” he responds. “I’m just getting an early start on one of my finals.”

Piandao’s eyebrows pinch together a little bit. “Okay, son. Don’t work yourself too hard.” He knows as well as Sokka does that his advice won’t be followed. He makes to grab something, but his eyes catch on Sokka’s thermos. “Ah, I love the Jasmine Dragon. Even though Iroh cheats at Pai Sho,” he chuckles to himself.

“Yeah, my friend works there. He’s Iroh’s nephew, actually.”

“You know Zuko?” Sokka nods. “I’m glad he has a friend like you. He hasn’t exactly had the easiest go of it.”

Gears start to turn in Sokka’s head _._ Something about Piandao has always made him want to spill his guts.

Before Piandao can get started on his own work, Sokka interrupts him. “Actually Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you a question on a, um, problem I’m having?”

“Of course. Have you double-checked your math?”

Sokka fiddles with his cartilage earring. “This is more about a... personal issue?” It wasn’t meant to come out as a question, but it does. He doesn’t miss the way Piandao’s eyes flick down to the Jasmine Dragon cup.

“I suppose I could help. But only if you tell me in the most general terms. I’m not supposed to know that much about your personal life, and, frankly, I don’t want to.” A hint of a smile plays at his lips, just enough so that Sokka knows it’s a joke. He laughs a little before starting.

“Well, there’s this person. And I thought that we were on good terms. And we were! I think. But then I did something stupid that I kind of regret. But I didn’t actually do anything? Also, I don’t know if it was, like, _totally_ unwanted? And if it was unwanted, then I don’t know how to make things not weird. But if it wasn’t unwanted — like, if the stupid thing was stupid because of other stuff and not because of why I think it was stupid — then I also don’t know how to make things not weird, but it would be a different kind of weird, you know? And I just can’t figure how to, uh, proceed with this person without making it even more weird. If that makes sense.”

Piandao just blinks as Sokka catches his breath from his mini-tirade.

“That’s rough, Sokka,” Piandao says after a minute of processing. “From what I gathered, it seems like the main issue is miscommunication. Try and get on the same page with this person, and go from there.”

It seems like the simplest solution, but it takes hearing his mentor say it for Sokka to realize that that’s exactly what he needs to do. “Thank you so much, Professor. That helps a lot.”

“Anytime.” Piandao takes a half-step away, then turns back around. “By the way, I just came from the Jasmine Dragon. Zuko is on shift all afternoon.”

Sokka’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. He didn’t think he was that easy to read.

-

The Jasmine Dragon always has a soft din of noise around it. Clacking of Pai Sho tiles on the board, the milk steamer hissing, the chatter of patrons. Today is no different, but Sokka hears Zuko’s quiet, raspy voice rise above it all. He’s behind the counter like always, taking the order of a girl that looks vaguely familiar. His hair is a little rumpled, and there’s a coffee stain on his red apron. Sokka feels his heart do a loop-de-loop.

He came to the shop after he had exhausted the engineering part of his brain for the day. Sokka is determined to take Piandao’s advice. He just has to remember how to form words.

The customer in front of him steps aside, and he’s met with golden eyes staring at him. They widen for half a second, but Zuko schools his face into customer service mode.

“Hi, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. What can I get you?”

“Five minutes of your time?” Sokka asks, mouth quirking up at the side.

“Uh,” Zuko eloquently responds. Sokka doesn’t know if he’s going to be told no, but another worker sneaks up behind Zuko.

“I’ll cover the counter,” she says. “Take your break.”

Zuko nods and gives a quick “thanks, Song,” before walking out and sitting at a nearby table. Sokka follows his lead and sits across from him.

Sokka twists his ring, but keeps his eyes locked on Zuko when he rushes out, “I just wanted to say that if things were weird last night, I’m sorry.” Zuko’s eyebrows pull together. “Also, my friends really liked you! So, I guess they’re your friends now too,” he adds.

Zuko takes a minute to answer. His tongue peeks out between his lips when he’s really concentrating. Sokka’s eyes flick downwards — he’s only human. Finally, the shorter boy speaks. “You don’t need to be sorry. I left because of my own shit going on. Honestly, I probably would’ve stayed if, uh...” He trails off, but Sokka’s mind is going a mile a minute. Does he mean that he would’ve kissed Sokka?

Before Sokka can ask any follow-ups, Zuko starts talking again. “But your friends really liked me? Even your sister?” HIs eyes sparkle with hope. He looks so innocent and young like this, Sokka realizes. He doesn’t want anything to take that look away from Zuko.

“Yeah, they did,” he responds with a smile. He tentatively reaches out, and covers the back of Zuko’s hand with his own. Zuko’s eyes fix on their hands as Sokka continues. “My friend Teo is actually throwing a party this week, if you would want to come with me? Uh, not like _with me_ with me. Not like a date! With us, I mean. Aang, Suki, and Katara will be there too. Toph has a thing with her parents but -“

Zuko mercifully cuts Sokka off before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The pair stare at each other for a second, reveling in the warmth of contact between their hands. The silence is comfortable, until Zuko says, "Your shirt is really dumb, you know."

Sokka's righteous fury has to wait, though. The girl behind the counter — Song, Sokka reminds himself — calls Zuko back to work. The boy sheepishly takes his hand back and shuffles behind the counter.

Sokka tries to calm his wildly beating heart. It doesn't work, but he finds that he doesn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this fic is almost done !! i'm so glad that sm ppl like it it makes me very :-))))  
> \- LET'S HEAR IT FOR COMMUNICATION  
> \- sokka's word vomit was so funny to write it was me talking to myself out loud at 2 am  
> \- i love piandao as a surrogate dad / mentor  
> \- Also i'm thinking of doing a mailee road trip fic after this bc i love those girls
> 
> as always thank u sm for reading !! <3 <3 <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: light drinking, recreational drug use (marijuana)

"Stop being a baby." Mai's voice is crinkly coming through Zuko's shitty phone speakers, but he can practically hear her eyes roll.

"I'm not being a baby!" Zuko protests. "I just don't know what to wear. I'm not exactly a frequent partier." He sits on his bed, half his closet strewn about.

"Well, I think it's cute," Ty Lee chimes in. Zuko sees a flash of pink in the background of the Facetime. "Remember our first date, sweets? You were so nervous, it was adorable!"

"No. I don't remember that at all," Mai deadpans, even though a light flush floods her cheeks.

"Yeah! Remember how you brought me those flowers you arranged yourself? And -"

"Ty Lee. Please shut up.”

Zuko is laughing a little at his friend's discomfort, but he can't help the twinge of pain that twists in his gut. He wants the sort of easy affection that Mai and Ty Lee have, though they don't always show it.

It's around 7, so Ty Lee is standing at the stove making dinner for the pair and Azula. Zuko made sure to call when Azula was showering. He doesn't need his little sister mercilessly teasing him about his nonexistent love life.

"What's wrong with the outfit you're wearing now, anyways?" Mai asks.

"I don't know! But it just doesn't _feel_ right," Zuko whines. He thinks he hears Mai mutter something like "fucking English majors," but she's drowned out by another voice. It’s a voice that Zuko could pick out of anywhere. He tenses when he hears it.

“Who are you talking to?” Azula says from offscreen. Zuko hopes his wide eyes are enough to signal to Mai not to tell his sister about his current dilemma. Unfortunately, Ty Lee can’t see the screen.

“We’re helping Zuko pick out an outfit for a party!” She supplies.

“Zuzu? Going out? You can’t be serious,” Azula scoffs, coming into view of the camera.

Zuko frowns. Though he’s glad Azula is able to tease him without any actual malice behind it now, it always turns him into a petulant child. “Yes, I am serious. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Just when Zuko is prepared to have more barbs thrown his way, Azula speaks. “Wear your skinny jeans and that black long-sleeve. Put a t-shirt over it.”

Mai and Zuko make eye contact through the screen. Neither were expecting advice from the younger girl, much less sincere advice. She was right, too.

“Wow,” he finally says. “Thanks, Azula.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she responds, but Zuko can picture the small smile on her face through the lilt of her words.

Before he hangs up he thanks everyone, tells them he misses them, and gets properly scolded by Ty Lee for not calling more. As he changes for the party, Zuko is reminded of the first night he spoke to Sokka. He remembers how Sokka’s dark eyeliner made his blue eyes shine, even in the darkness of the venue. He looks to his dresser, the top drawer of which houses the eyeliner pencil he used for one of his sophomore year theatre classes. On a whim, he grabs it. He thanks Agni that Uncle is at a Pai Sho tournament — he doesn’t think he could handle a pep talk from a 75-year-old right now.

Zuko sees the group outside Sokka’s building after a short bus ride. Teo’s is only a few blocks from Sokka’s, so he told Zuko that he can meet the gang and they can all walk over together. As Zuko walks down the street, he starts laughing. Toph is on Suki’s shoulders, and Aang is on Sokka’s. Everyone is wobbling, but they seem to be steady enough that no one will crack their head open. A giggling Katara spots Zuko and calls for a time-out from whatever game they were playing.

Zuko hears that same nagging in his brain he did when he saw the group last — that he’ll never be close with anyone like they are. But then, Aang hops off Sokka and envelops Zuko in a hug. It’s shockingly tight for how scrawny the kid looks. The little voice in Zuko’s head quiets down.

Everyone says their hellos and gives their own greetings after Aang’s grip loosens. Toph punches him in the arm. Suki gives a small hug. Even Katara waves at him, which he wasn’t expecting. Sokka, though, stands frozen in place. He won’t stop staring at Zuko.

“Is there… something on my face?” the shorter boy asks. That seems to jolt Sokka out of his daze.

“No! No, I just, uh, like your eyeliner. Suki does mine sometimes. But I think I like it better on you.” Sokka gives Zuko such a sweet smile that his knees go weak for a second.

Then, Katara declares that they’re officially fashionably late, which means they need to leave now before fashionably late becomes rudely late. Sokka rolls his eyes at his sister, but the group starts down the street.

-

Zuko is tipsy. Toph had asked him to do a shot with her, and he can’t say no to Toph. He tried. She punched him in the arm. He acquiesced. He finds he doesn’t mind, though. He’s on the right side of tipsy, just enough that his chest feels warm and loose but he still has all his mental faculties. 

At some point in the night, Sokka had wandered away to talk to some of his engineering buddies. Katara and Aang are beating every challenger at beer pong. Suki is chatting with people. Toph is probably still in the kitchen. Zuko is standing awkwardly against the wall, trying not to seem like a loner when someone walks up to him.

“Hi, I’m Jin,” the girl says. Zuko thinks the name sounds familiar from one of Sokka’s stories about his lab, but he isn’t sure.

“Zuko,” he replies.

She looks around a little awkwardly for a second. Zuko does too. He’s not sure where this is going. “What are you drinking?” Jin asks.

“Oh, uh,” Zuko frowns. Toph had shoved it into his hands, telling him it was her patented ‘cactus juice.’ “I’m not actually sure.”

Jin laughs softly. “I like your make-up,” she offers.

He’s surprised at the compliment. “Oh, thank you! It’s just eyeliner. I like yours, though. What kind of highlight are you using?” He’s managed to pick up some make-up jargon from Ty Lee over the years, and he always has liked learning new things.

Jin opens her mouth to give an answer when Zuko feels someone come up next to him on his good side. He tenses for a second, not knowing who it is; but then he smells sandalwood and coconut and his body relaxes involuntarily.

“Hey, Jin!” Sokka says as he rests his chin on Zuko’s shoulder. “Hi,”he addresses to Zuko, softer. Zuko feels the warmth Sokka’s breath on the side of his face, smells the alcohol on Sokka’s lips. His mouth can’t seem to form any words. He prays Sokka can’t feel how his heartbeat jack-rabbits.

“Hi, Sokka,” Jin smiles. “I think I see someone I know over there.” She points in the opposite direction. Zuko knows it’s rude, but he isn’t really processing anything she’s saying. His mind is otherwise occupied with the warm body pressing into his side and the cold metal earring brushing against his neck. “Zuko,” she continues, “if you want to talk make-up, come find me.”

“Yeah, sure!” He responds as Jin leaves. She really was nice. At another time, Zuko would’ve taken her up on the offer.

Sokka pulls back enough that Zuko can turn his head. Their noses almost brush. Sokka breaks out into one of his trademark grins and says, “C’mon.”

Where they’re going, Zuko doesn’t know. He goes anyways. He thinks he’d do whatever Sokka asked him to, and isn’t that a terrifying thought. Sokka clasps their hands together and drags him through the party towards a hazy corner of the living room. Zuko sees Suki, Teo, Haru, and a few of Sokka’s other friends sitting in a close circle, passing a joint around.

Sokka turns back to look at Zuko. “You wanna?” he asks, blue eyes alight with excitement.

Before Zuko can answer, he’s being yanked onto a beanbag chair. The seat isn’t meant for two people, that much is clear. They’re practically on top of each other. Sokka doesn’t let go of his hand, though. Zuko is glad his face was already red from the drinks.

“Hey, man!” Haru tells Sokka. “Where ya been all night?”

“I’ve been here, pal. You’re the one that’s sitting around like it’s _That 70s Show_ ,” Sokka laughs. “C’mon, pass it over.”

Haru hands the joint over to Sokka. Zuko is acutely aware of everything around him — Sokka’s chest rising and falling at his deep inhale, the way the smoke leaves his lips, the small smile he gives when he holds it out for Zuko to take.

“Oh.” Zuko’s brow furrows a little.

“Something wrong?” Sokka asks. He’s always so patient and kind. Zuko isn’t sure he deserves it.

“No, no. I just - I haven’t really ever smoked before.”

“Really? You don’t have to if-“

Zuko shakes his head firmly. “No, I want to.” He hesitates for a second.

Sokka has an unreadable look in his eyes before he speaks again. “I have an idea. Face me.”

Zuko, of course, does. He can’t tear his eyes away from Sokka’s mouth as he brings the joint up to his lips and takes a breath in. He doesn’t exhale yet. Instead, his other hand tucks under Zuko’s chin, thumb resting just under his bottom lip. Sokka pulls down ever so gently to open Zuko’s mouth for him. Then, finally, he lets the smoke flow between them. Zuko breathes in. His eyes don’t leave Sokka’s.

Someone clears their throat. Zuko snaps out of his trance.

“Okay loverboys,” Suki says, rolling her eyes. “Give it here.”

Sokka passes the joint to her, and Zuko tries to get a read on him. He’s looking for eye contact, a head nod, _something_ to acknowledge what just happened. Sokka’s smiling, but it’s not any one of the good Sokka smiles Zuko has come to know. It’s tight and forced, and it breaks Zuko’s heart a little. He doesn’t know what he did wrong.

-

A little while later, Zuko’s snuggled into Sokka’s side. He has only taken a few hits, but he still feels a little spacey. And cuddly.

“I guess weed turns you into a koala bear or something,” Sokka whispers to him, gazing down.

“Hm. I guess.”

“Can I show you something?” Sokka asks, giggling a little after. Zuko nods and lets the taller man pull him off the beanbag chair. Their hands are glued together for the second time that night, and Zuko zeroes in on just how warm (and big, and strong) his friend’s calloused hands are.

_He should be, like, a ring model or something,_ he muses to himself _._

Sokka drops Zuko’s hand to lift the living room window. He climbs out onto the fire escape and motions for Zuko to follow with a wink. Teo lives in a fourth-floor walk up, so his fire escape connects directly to the roof. Zuko looks with trepidation, but follows anyway. He seems to be doing a lot of that tonight.

Soon, they’re both lying flat on the roof. Their hands are almost touching as they share in the silence.

“Why do you take the bus?”

“What?” Zuko asks, looking at the other man incredulously.

“I was just thinking that you know why I was taking the bus, but I don’t know why you take the bus.” Sokka giggles in between his words, but his eyes convey nothing but genuine curiosity.

“I mean, I can’t exactly see all that well,” Zuko deadpans. “You know, the eye and everything.”

From the look on Sokka’s face, you would think he had forgotten about the scar entirely. “Can you see at all out of it?”

“Yeah. Enough.” He takes a shaky inhale, facing the stars again. It’s been a while since he’s had to think about the way he got his scar. Deliberately, the how, why, and when are missing from the explanation. “I couldn’t always. When it first happened, I had a hard time with depths.” He trips over the last word a few times, a reminder of his inebriated state. The cold air and the conversation are sobering him up quickly, though. “It’s not so bad now.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything. His pinky wraps around Zuko’s, a silent promise. After a minute, he asks, “Can I?”

He doesn’t need to specify. Zuko turns back to him and nods, almost imperceptibly. His eyes slip shut as Sokka’s other hand bridges the gap between them. At first, his touch is feather-light. He trails his fingertip from the corner of Zuko’s bad eye down his jawline. Next, he loops around Zuko’s ear, shriveled and puckered. Finally, he rests the palm of his hand against Zuko’s cheek.

Zuko doesn’t think he’s breathing. The party below feels a million miles away. His eyes open slowly as he turns ever so slightly and presses a kiss into Sokka’s palm.

He almost doesn’t hear Sokka say his name, but he does. It’s a soft, delicate word in the other man’s mouth, almost like a prayer: _Zuko_. Sokka’s deep blue eyes reflect the stars and the hazy yellow of the light above the door. Zuko feels like he’s going to drown.

His eyes flutter shut again as Sokka leans in.

And, _oh_.

Sokka’s lips are chapped and full and everything Zuko had imagined and more. The kiss is chaste and sweet. The men pull a hairsbreadth away. It's just enough for their foreheads to rest against each other.

Zuko is the one who leans in this time. Their second kiss is just as good, if not better than the first. Involuntarily, he sighs. Before he can be embarrassed, Sokka uses it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into Zuko’s mouth. He tastes like cheap tequila and weed, but there’s something undeniably _Sokka_ underneath. Zuko is addicted. Now that he knows what it’s like to kiss Sokka, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

They pull apart, a little out of breath, when Sokka’s phone buzzes. Zuko is mortified at the small whine that comes from his throat. Sokka’s eyes widen.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here,” he murmurs. Zuko pretends that his heart doesn’t scream at the term of endearment. Sokka checks his phone and clicks his tongue in disappointment. “As much as I would love to continue this, our friends want to leave. Also, we’re outside without jackets in November.”

Zuko pouts, but he agrees nonetheless.

They crawl back through the living room window and someone wolf-whistles at them. Zuko thinks it might’ve been Jin. It takes the pair a few minutes to round up all their friends and shuffle out back towards Sokka’s apartment building. Zuko and Sokka hang a few steps behind the rest of the group, backs of their hands brushing as they walk in silence.

Outside the building, Aang hops into the driver’s seat of Sokka’s car. He’s borrowing Marie for the night as the designated driver to bring everyone back to their respective dorms. Zuko’s about to join everyone in the backseat when Sokka says something.

“You could stay here for the night.” Zuko stands with his mouth parted until Sokka realizes how that sounds. “Just to sleep, I mean. Nothing more.” His hands reach out for Zuko’s.

The thing is, Zuko has a not-great track record of rushing into things without thinking. He doesn’t want to screw this up with Sokka by going too fast. “Just sleep?”

“Just sleep.”

Zuko lets Aang know to go without him. The car erupts in a chorus of oohs and kissing noises, until he hears a smack followed by “Gross! That’s my brother!” Toph and Katara bicker about who knows what as Aang pulls out of the driveway.

Sokka and Zuko walk hand and hand up to the apartment.

For once, Zuko thinks this might all work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- writing endings ? no thank u  
> \- i May write a short epilogue ? tbd
> 
> this was really fun to write and i'm glad that so many people liked it !! thank u sm <3 <3 <3


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